


Blood On the Dancefloor

by gsmaxwell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aliens Make Them Do It, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Spells & Enchantments, Virgin Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gsmaxwell/pseuds/gsmaxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, let’s head back and ask Deaton what he thinks,” Scott had carefully closed and cupboard and Stiles should have known nothing good came from   unanimously agreed upon reasonable suggestions. </p><p>(Basically, demons made them do it, virgin blood rituals and such. Do I need an excuse to get them sexy-times-together?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood On the Dancefloor

**Author's Note:**

> Lalala, thinly veiled excuse for Derek and Stiles to have sex. All persons are above the age of eighteen. 
> 
> Left hand wave-canon, right hand wave-sexiness.

Motherfucking demon witches. Motherfucking hell dimensions.

 

Sometimes Stiles wanted to shake each and every monster and creepy-crawler and tell them to high tail it south to Sunnydale because he had barely signed on for werewolves. He didn’t need this kind of stress in his life.

 

They had been almost peaceful for two months. Senior year had started, Stiles was finally almost starting line as the homecoming lacrosse game approached (as if Beacon Hills alumni would rally for _football_ ) and he was almost-kind-of sure that he had prepped Scott enough to at least get into the Vet Tech program at the nearby college. Things had been looking up for Stiles Stilinski.

 

But it was almost like Derek couldn’t just let well enough fucking alone. Stiles’s Saturday night went from dealing with an army of ants that had found his snack drawer to searching secret Hunter encoded databases for strange auras and weird-ass Alpha gut feelings.

 

“This is pretty creepy,” Stiles had said when they finally came to the clearing that had bothered Derek so much. There was a small hut, inconspicuous in any other town but here it probably housed some kind of super tragic-yet-terrifying ghosts.

 

“That’s where it is,” the nearly full moon had made Derek unnaturally pale.

 

Stiles had looked to Scott, the only other member of the pack not incapacitated by mopey pre-moon feelings this week, probably because he was on-again with Allison. Scott had his head tilted and wince in his eyes like he was hearing something too high-pitched to be comfortable.

 

“So, what?” Stiles had looked between the two of them. He had done the research and turned up nothing; his plan was zilch until they could tell him some new information. “Hairy fang beast? Wiccan teenagers out of control? Not butterflies again, please.”

 

“Let’s go in and see,” had been Derek’s poorly chosen famous last words.

 

Motherfucking unintuitive werewolf senses.

 

Nothing had been remarkable about the hut when they went inside except for the fact it was scrupulously clean. One room, double steel framed bed with something akin to a camping kitchen along one side. No toilet or shower, whoever used this must rely on Mother Nature for Mother Nature’s bodily functions. It was a bit crude. The floor was dirt under the floor rug and there were no windows. Derek and Scott had sniffed every surface, trying their best to not disturb anything, and it was Scott who stiffened and yanked open the cupboard.

 

“And that’s not good,” Stiles and Derek had crouched to look over his shoulder at the glowing vials neatly lined up.

 

“Okay, let’s head back and ask Deaton what he thinks,” Scott had carefully closed and cupboard and Stilesshould have known nothing good came from unanimously agreed upon reasonable suggestions.

 

***

 

“The blood of a freshly penetrated virgin,” the hooded cloaked figure was saying, “The life essence from within the body mixes. And then we can go back to our worldly sphere of _home_.”

 

All Stiles heard was “ _Blahblahblah, Stiles you’re still horrendously under-sexed and this is going to be a terribly uncomfortable for you. Again.”_

 

There wasn’t much to be done about it either. There had been a rune in the dirt, white glowing and hot to the touch whenever Stiles tried to follow Derek and Scott out the door. Virgins Be Trapped, it seemed as Stiles looked futilely from the door frame. The hooded figures had been waiting. Dark smoky tendrils had leapt up from the shadows of their torches and held Derek and Scott’s feet fast to the forest ground. Both had wolfed out as the darkness crept up their legs and torsos to clamp their mouths shut so it was only Stiles who had the special privilege of talking.

 

The voice that had spoken had been so pompous Stiles had rolled his eyes.

 

“You can’t be serious,” was all he could come up with.

 

“You must mix the two with the vials,” one of the hoods seemed to be the leader. “When it is finished we can finally open the gateway to our home and be rid of your vile dimension.”

 

“Wait,” Stiles said flatly. “Does that just mean you’ll leave or will it destroy the world? I’d just like to be clear on that.”

 

The hoods were quiet for a moment before replying hesitantly, “The first one.”

 

“And if I don’t feel like being freshly penetrated?” Stiles crossed his arms.

 

“We will wait until you are,” was the reply. “We are not unkind. You may choose your suitor.”

 

Stiles glanced around the woods; there were about a dozen indifferentiable figures around the clearing. Stiles wasn’t sure how exactly he was supposed to choose until Scott and Derek let out exasperated yet muffled growls and Stiles sheepishly look back to them. “Scott. Uh, yeah, I choose Scott I guess.”

 

And that was when things went from horribly uncomfortable to downright terrifying as the seemingly incorporeal tendrils released its grip before hardening and piercing Scott’s shoulders and thighs.

 

“No, that’s Scott!” Stiles shouted, taking a step forward before remembering the barrier. “That’s the guy I want!”

 

“We will keep him as insurance,” the hood said, suddenly not so cliché. “Until you deliver our key.”

 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Scott was panting and pale as he lay pinned on the ground. It was obviously painful but he gritted the words out. “I’m fine. Derek-“

 

The tendrils moved suddenly, shoved Derek forward like a ragdoll through the door, knocking Stiles down onto the ground, a ton of hard, steely muscly werewolf on top of him, and slammed the door shut.

 

“Get _off_ me!” Stiles shoved but Derek was already moving. Stiles tried to open the door again but it was held fast by something, probably stupid, virgin _magic_. He pounded at it with a fist to make himself feel better before turning slowly to look at Derek.

 

“So, uh, nothing personal, right?”

 

There was a disgruntled sound and Derek grabbed the hem of his shirt, whipping it off with a familiar ripple of muscles. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

“Hey!” Stiles knew Scott was on the other side and he wasn’t exactly sure how long werewolves could stand that kind of pain, but if there was ever a time to slow down for half a second this was it. “Shouldn’t we be trying to escape or something? Something that doesn’t involve my virgin blood?”

 

“There’s no escaping,” Derek said, his hands already on his belt. “I’ve heard about these things. They were trapped here, somehow. They’re right too, the only way for them to get back home is some kind of potion and if we don’t help them they’ll head into town and start to tear the place apart until they find someone who will. Scott has about an hour before his injuries are going to be too serious for the wolf to heal him completely and this is the fastest way.” Derek unzipped and looked pointedly at Stiles. “Hurry up.”

 

“There will be no hurrying!” Stiles clutched the door handle digging into the small of his back like it was an anchor to reality. “An hour? There’s got to be at least a little time for, some, I don’t know, preparation.”

 

“We don’t have time for flower and romance,” and holy, dear, Jesus, shirtless Derek was a common sight but there was a whole other bottom half Stiles had never seen so clearly defined by thin cotton briefs.

 

“I was thinking some _other_ kind of preparation!” Stiles knew Derek could hear his heart and he hoped the wolf would tell him if it was a sign of an incoming heart attack. It sure felt like it. “Lube? Some kind of warm up?” He wiggled his fingers in the air to make a point.

 

That made Derek pause, his thumbs hooked into the elastic of his underwear, and glower. “They said they needed your blood. I’m assuming they’re used to using a girl virgin so that blood is probably supposed to be-“

 

“I don’t have a freaking hymen!” Stiles knew he was flushing but his stomach dropped in a sudden, thick kind of dread. “Oh fuck.”

 

This was actually happening. The last time someone had wanted to have sex with him, when it had been in the realm of possibility, was with Heather. That had been shocking and unexpected when she had kissed him and pushed him against the wine rack in the basement. Her lips had tasted like grapefruit and she had been soft, nervous like him. It would have been nice.

 

Stiles looked at Derek, hard muscles and a tight, grinding jaw with angry fists.

 

It figured he couldn’t have one normal thing in his life.

 

He released the door and stepped away from it, forcing him arms to relax by his sides. “Is it even going to work if I’m not a girl?”

 

Derek looked at him carefully, defensively, but he relaxed too, uncurling his hands and looked steadfast at the bed which suddenly felt like it was taking up way too much space in the hut. “I don’t know. Maybe blood from anywhere will work.”

 

Stiles jerked his head in a nod. “We should ask. Like, before. I’d,” his voice caught a little as the fear worked its way to his skin. “I’d rather not have to bleed. Like that.”

 

Derek pulled his pants back on and Stiles moved out of the way so he could open the door without their shoulders brushing. The door opened easily for Derek and when the older man closed the door behind him Stiles realized whatever kind of rune was keeping him in made the hut eerily silent when the door was shut. Hopefully the soundproofing went two ways. He’d rather not have an audience.

 

His hands were shaking but he stripped off his jacket and flannel shirt, the air still cold, and laid them on the small kitchen counter neatly. He wasn’t sure if he should take off anything but when he did finally decided to toe off his shoes, Derek came back, still shirtless and not looking chilled at all.

 

“They gave me this.” Stiles felt a little of the clench in his stomach relax when he saw a familiar tube. “They said any kind of blood would be fine.”

 

“How’s Scott holding up?”

 

“He’s fine.” There was a stretch of silence and Stiles went for his own belt.

 

“Well, okay then, let’s get this over with. I know I’m not exactly your first choice or anything but if there’s nothing else to be done then we’ll just have to do it. I guess this means no more token virgin in the group anymore and considering how many rituals in the bestiary need virgin blood I think we should start looking for another source, just in case of emergencies because-“

 

“Stiles.”

 

He looked up and something had softened about Derek’s face. He wasn’t sure if it was pity or regret but Derek didn’t look like an overstrung bow anymore. “If we wait Isaac and Cora might realize we’re in trouble. They’ll be able to find us.”

 

“Cora maybe,” Stiles said. “But she’s not exactly ready to take on a whole clan of demon spawn people. I have doubts about Isaac’s werewolf detection skills.” He took a deep breath, forcing more tension out of his body and holding onto the chilly air like a vice. He tried to let it still the tension. “Derek, it’s fine. Just- go slow.”

 

Derek nodded and they both stripped down to their underwear. Stiles shivered as he sat on the bed and avoided looking directly at Derek before he turned over and gripped the sole, saggy pillow under his chin. There was a dip at Derek sat on the edge and Stiles couldn’t stop the flinch as his calloused hand touched his shoulder. Then, there was a soft brush of lips against the top of his spine.

 

“Just relax, okay,” Derek’s voice was gruff and the stubble on his chin felt rough.

 

“We’re kind of on a time limit,” Stile started to say as probing fingers pushed at one hip and rolled him onto his side. “Do you need some kind of fluffer? Because maybe if you ask them nicely-“

 

Derek’s stubble as rough on his face as well as he kissed him with a closed mouth and pushed until Stiles was flat on his back. It must be awkward, twisted like that as he held Stiles’s shoulder against the mattress. Stiles had been kissed a few times: Heather; a girl in sixth grade who had been dared to; the girls from the Jungle who thought greeting with a little tongue was just friendly. But this was the first horizontal tango, and with one large hand braced on his shoulder and the other spanning the bared skin on his hip it felt much, much different from all of those other times.

 

Derek pulled back after a moment, his eyes calculating as he searched for something in Stile’s face, before he moved. He had been sitting on the edge of the bed, still only in his briefs, but he climbed on after Stiles, forcing the boy to shift to the centre of the bed to avoid being kneed. The cold air suddenly felt far away as more molten-feeling skin rested along his side.

 

“Okay?” Derek’s face was still very, very close and Stiles had to remember to take a shaky breath. He nodded and Derek was kissing him again, this time with an agenda it seemed. Stiles opened his mouth and very quickly the kiss became slick, Derek’s mouth a thousand time hotter than he expected. He felt suddenly very aware of every movement the other man made, the tightening grip on his shoulder making him tilt his head to follow Derek’s mouth as he shifted a thigh between Stiles’s. Fear and nerves had kept Stiles soft but the second Derek brought up a firm leg to rub at the crease between his hip and thigh his dick jumped shockingly quickly. Stiles gasped and jerked, digging his bottom teeth on the soft bottom of Derek’s tongue.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Stiles muttered and turned his head, spit probably going everywhere and being extraordinarily attractive, he was sure. If Derek thought so he didn’t say anything and instead started to mouth under Stiles’s jaw. He felt like his heart was beating in a directly line from Derek’s tongue right to his dick and he couldn’t stop panting, hoping to calm himself down as he went from flaccid-shaking-terror to oh-my-god-right-there erection. His boxers were bunched uncomfortably between Derek’s thigh and his balls but he couldn’t seem to find the words or the strength to do anything other than grip the sheets under him.

 

It was like Derek _knew_ , though, because he drew back for a moment, the sudden loss of his weight making Stiles feel achy and a little too spun out of control, but then he was back, nudging Stiles’s legs further apart as he settled between them and, oh yeah. As hot as Derek was, there was a hard length against Stiles that felt a few degrees higher.

 

“Still okay?” Derek’s voice sounded strained now and Stiles was happy he wasn’t the only one having trouble feeling like this was normal.

 

Instead of answering, Stiles decided he was being a little too passive for something that he was going to have to remember for the rest of his life. He lifted his hips, trying to fight the truly embarrassing whimper as he rub along Derek’s stomach and wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist. Luckily, Derek had a truly embarrassing sex-noise as well and his hands were suddenly tight under Stiles’s ribs as he started to tentatively rock their pelvises together.

 

Stiles remembered being sixteen and coming twice in half an hour from the memory of when Lydia had accidently pressed her breasts against his arm while reaching over his desk. That had been two years ago and, unfortunately, his body hadn’t quite gotten itself sorted out. “Derek, I’m gonna-“

 

There was a sharp sting on his neck as Derek nipped at him and pulled away abruptly. He shoved Stiles down on the bed, the harsh push suddenly reminding Stiles that Derek was strong enough to rip him in half if things went sideways. “Turn over.”

 

There had been a cloth barrier between them before but Derek wasted no more time tugging his boxers down his hips as he gripped the pillow again, his stomach tight in knots from a mix of arousal and anticipation. Unlike before, Stiles didn’t jump when Derek slid a hand over his back as if assessing the plains of his body by touch alone. He could feel Derek bracketing his hips with his knees and the other man was naked as well if the solitary hot patch of soft skin on his ass was anything to go on. It felt weird to be doing this without ever seeing the other man naked but there was really nothing normal about the whole situation.

 

“Let me know if it hurts,” was the only warning Stiles got as Derek’s fingers slipped between his ass, one hand cold and slippery with the contents of the tube. It was strange and uncomfortable as Derek’s finger ringed the outside edge of his hole before slowly, slowly sliding into the tight muscle. It didn’t hurt, but it was only the very tip, Stiles reasoned, and then it wasn’t. He had never felt so aware of the inside of his ass, that there were so many nerves, and it felt strangely detached from his body somehow. He forced himself to relax, taking a deep breath and imagining the tension slipping away.

 

Derek went deeper, his knuckle breeching Stiles as he felt the finger crook and suddenly there was a white hot flash.

 

“Is it okay?” Derek’s voice was hard and cold but Stiles was glad to hear something cut through the _ohmygodagainagainagian_ babble of his brain.

 

“Yeah, that’s, good there,” Stiles managed to choke out as Derek pulled his hand back. Two fingers pushed in now but Stiles was still shaking from the aftershocks and let his body whimper as a reward for not flying apart. Derek brushed against that spot again and Stiles’s hips jerked down, his forgotten erection renewed and rubbing against the bed. Stiles had never thought something could bring that kind of weakness to his knees other than jerking off. He gasped as Derek pressed down on it again and a small voice scoffed at the way he was drooling all over the pillow but he really couldn’t be bothered with that part of his brain right now.

 

He hadn’t realized how far he was spread his legs in an effort to rock back on Derek’s fingers but his thighs were suddenly straining as Derek pulled his hand all the way back and out. He tensed for a minute as he heard the minute squeeze from the tube again, thinking that this was the grand finale as it were, but instead three fingers suddenly chilly again pressed in a tight, three point triangle on his ass and pushed in with more force than before.

 

This time Stiles felt the strain as muscles were pushed to accommodate the width of Derek’s knuckles as he sunk in faster. Sweat on his forehead was cooling quickly as he concentrated on lifted his hips to make it easier, a more straight forward path, and his legs started to tremble from holding up the awkward position. Fortunately, Derek seemed to be in more of a rush because he didn’t do more than a few cursory twists, his fingers slick all the way up so there was not a lot of friction, just pressure before pulling them out again letting Stiles relax back onto the mattress.

 

More squeeze, a rapid slick moving sound Stiles was all too familiar with and then a hand holding him open as the blunt tip of Derek’s dick started to push in.

 

“Wait!”

 

Stiles had never felt Derek respond so fast to one of his demands. He froze, still resting just outside but legs suddenly locked stiff.

 

“What?” his voice was harsh, like he had been panting. Stiles turned to look over his shoulder and blinked at the barely held restraint on Derek’s face. “What’s wrong?” That was almost a growl.

 

“When are we pricking my finger? Like, now? Or after?” Derek blinked, confused, then his eyebrows furrowed.

 

“You stopped for that?”

 

“It’s a legitimate question,” Stiles bit out. “I don’t want to screw this up! It’s not like we can have a do-over!”

 

He locked eyes with Derek for a full five seconds before Derek grunted and levered himself off the bed with an effortless ease. Stiles tried to breathe through his nose, _calm, calm, calm_ , as Derek reached into the cupboard for one of the empty glass vials. Stiles suddenly thought about how much blood would be needed to fill it and Derek must have noticed the sharp breath.

 

“We don’t need much,” he spoke low as he handed it to Stiles. “When do you want me to cut you?”

 

“Maybe, during,” Stiles hated how stilted his voice was. The glass warmed quickly in his hand. “I’m not sure how long ‘freshly penetrated virgin’ status is good for.”

 

Stiles was painfully aware of the way Derek straddled him, like he was mounting him, and the thought made him panic a little. In the heat of the moment, when he wasn’t thinking about it, it hadn’t felt that strange. But now, two steps back, one step forward, it felt different. Derek hesitated as if he felt the same way, and rocked back onto his heels so his ass was settled on Stiles’s calves.

 

“We’re running out of time.”

 

“I know, I know,” Stiles squirmed, trying to get comfortable again. “Just do it already. I’ll be fine.”

 

There was a pause, another beat, then Derek moved forward and Stiles gritted his teeth as he felt Derek’s cock back where it had been.

 

The difference between his fingers and this was astounding. The fingers had been firm and unyielding, tapered at the tip which gave Stiles a chance to adjust slowly. This was blunt, and as hard as it was, it was softer than the fingers. Derek was pushing forward but Stiles’s body felt like it had shut down and though the lube was slick enough at his entrance he was grateful Derek wasn’t just going to force his way through. “Stiles. Breath.” Stiles was grateful for the familiar bossy tone.

 

In, out, Stiles tried to push away the mental blocks of ‘this was Derek’, ‘there are a dozen hooded, evil masked minion outside waiting’, and ‘there’s no going back after this’. He heard Derek’s breath hitch as Stiles’s muscle stretched again, the sting less than it had been but ever present- until it became almost unbearable and Stiles couldn’t muffle a choked yell fast enough.

 

Derek paused and Stiles wanted to smack him because he just wanted it over. He spit out the pillow, “Just _go_!”

 

Just when he thought his body couldn’t take anymore, he felt the blunt tip of Derek’s cock finally, finally fit in and then it was a shaking, hard pressure as Derek slid forward, pitching until he was breathing down Stiles’s neck and his hips were suddenly flush against Stiles’s flesh. Stiles let out what felt like all the air from his body in a strangled moan, feeling full to bursting as Derek’s hip jerked less than a millimeter further.

 

“Wait!” Stiles didn’t know where he found the breath to say it. Derek’s teeth caught on the top of his spine. His lower body felt like it was burning but, as Derek held carefully still, the hot uncomfortable feeling settled. The only part of them moving was Derek’s ribcage expanding and contracting in conscious, steady breathing as they both fought to stay still. “Okay,” Stiles felt like he was sucking in air through a tube. His voice felt too high. “Okay, blood time.”

 

Derek’s hands were resting on the side of Stiles’s forearms and he felt the bones grow and grind as Derek’s claws lengthen and cut small holes in the pillow. There was a sharp, foreign sting as he cut along the fleshy heel of Stiles’s thumb. Stiles tilted the vial, a slow but steady stream running down his knuckle and off his thumbnail, darkly sliding down the side of the glass until there was half an inch pooled at the bottom.

 

“Enough?” Stiles panted.

 

Derek nodded along the back of his hair and let go of his brace on the bed so he could take the vial and move it carefully to the floor. His weight pressed fully onto Stiles’s chest and he had to close his eyes as he felt Derek’s cock shifting inside of him.

 

“Okay, finish it,” Stiles said when Derek moved to inspect the cut. “Finish the de-virginization. Essence of life inside me.”

 

Derek didn’t even need to move far, he just thrust, small at first than bigger, not moving hard but steady. He gripped Stiles’s shoulders, his forearms running under his armpits to hold Stiles in place as he stayed plastered along Stiles. It didn’t feel bad, so much as it felt strange and though Stiles was hard he wasn’t sure he could come from this until Derek finally shifted, spreading his knees to get leverage against the bed and pulled out further.

 

Stiles had always wondered what noises he would make in bed and, there it was. He shouted involuntarily as Derek’s dick slammed into him. Nerves that had been pain receptors before suddenly seemed to run hot lines of pleasure straight to his toes, like things had been run through a translator. Derek let go of his shoulders, his mouth curving into a toothy grin along the back of his shoulder blade as he grabbed Stiles at his hips and jerked him back onto his knees, the solid wall of heat along his back suddenly gone and making him aware of how sweaty he was.

 

“Oh my god,” it felt like something had lit up again, all landing lights go, go, go as the change in position brought Derek right alongside that spot inside of him again. “Oh my _god_ , do that again!”

 

And Derek did, forcing Stiles to move forward as he moved back before slamming them together in a move that was too controlled to be unpracticed and Stiles suddenly had grateful moment that he was the only virgin in this bed. He let go of his hold on the pillow with one hand and grabbed at his own cock before it could slap against his stomach again.

 

The pace Derek set wasn’t fast but it was steady, frustratingly so, as Stiles tried to balance on one elbow and jerk off with the other hand. He couldn’t help the hiccupping, unsteady moans as Derek pressed again and again against his prostate, each time building on the next making him see spots until it started to force tears to prick in his eyes. It couldn’t have been more than a minute before he came, his arm giving out on him like a puppet with its string cut as he cried out, releasing wet and sticky all over his fist and stomach.

 

Derek paused, following Stiles as he sank flat on the bed, his breathing feeling painful as he twitched in the aftermath. He leaned over Stiles again, his nostrils flaring against the back of his ear and his hands spasming under Stiles’s ribs. “I’m sorry, I have to.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles turned his head, his body one big long tingle except for Derek’s cock penetrating the glowy light feeling in his limbs that made him feel like he would float away.

 

“I won’t be long,” Derek pressed a dry kiss on his jaw and then Stiles was suddenly jolted as Derek started to move, fast and almost brutal like he was racing to the finish line. It was almost too painful, too much sensation after his own orgasm and, if it had been any other time, he was sure he would have pushed Derek away. But the spell was specific and it wasn’t much more than half a dozen thrusts before Derek was biting onto the fleshy part where his neck met his shoulder and it felt like he was trying to crawl into Stiles’s skin.

 

He could feel Derek shuddering through his orgasm, erratic, aborted thrusts accompanying muffled groans until he finally stilled, his teeth resting like an afterthought on what was probably going to be an impressive bruising bite mark.

 

The next part was awkward. Derek moved slowly back and collected the cum that leaked out with a cupped hand. It was fascinating but disturbing to watch as Derek let it slide from his hand into the vial with his blood then wipe his hand on the bed sheet with a grimace. They dressed silently. There was nothing other than the bed sheet to clean off the lube and rest of the mess so Stiles used it vindictively. He couldn’t get it all off and there was an uncomfortable gummy feeling alongside the steady ache as he pulled his underwear and pants back on.

 

By the time he had finished climbing back into the layers of shirts and jacket he had worn, Derek had already mixed the vials and potions together in one large bowl. It had turned into some kind of vicious-looking black liquid and Stiles shivered not really caring to look at it anymore.

 

They walked out of the hut, the barrier no problem anymore for Stiles. The figures were more scattered around, like they had gotten bored and found other ways to occupy their time, but they all straightened up as Stiles glared at the leader. “Your stupid potion is done,” he jerked his thumb, the cut pulling painfully, at the hut and almost immediately the shadows pulled out of Scott’s limbs and he went limp with exhaustion. Stiles rushed to help him up, ignoring the ache in his backside as Derek hovered nearby in case the demons decided to try something else. One of them had gone to check and whatever it found must have satisfied it because the figure started to quickly meld back into the forest.

 

“Stiles,” Scott’s voice was slurred and he looked almost drugged as Stiles slung a heavy arm over his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Stiles muttered and refused anywhere but Scott’s face. “Let’s get you home.”

 

Scott would heal but slowly, and they made it a few shuffled paces before Derek was on the other side, lifting most of Scott’s weight off of Stiles’s shoulder. By the time they made it half way to where they had parked the cars Scott was able to stand mostly on his own though he was limping horribly and was still pale and shaking. Derek helped pile him into Stiles’s jeep but stood there as Stiles buckled the half-unconscious Scott into the seat.

 

“Stiles-“ Derek started but Stiles cut him off with a vicious shake of his head.

 

“Derek, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

 

The silence was deafening. Stiles finally looked up as he closed the door and stared back at Derek’s closed off face.

 

“Let’s just chalk this up to a crazy fuck-or-die scenario and leave it at that okay? We never have to talk about it again.”

 

“I’m sorry,” the words sounded tight. “I should have made them trade me for Scott-“

 

“That doesn’t matter,” Stiles said, wishing Derek would just disappear into the shadows like he usually did when the conversations grew uncomfortable. “I only said Scott because I’ve seen his junk in the shower and, though respectable, it’s not monstrous.”

 

There was a ripple of shock and confusion over Derek’s face but it settled into something not quite so guilty so Stiles was going to count that as a win. “You thought I was monstrous.”

 

“I don’t know, man,” Stiles threw his hands in the air. “You could have had a dog knot or something. Google was unclear on that subject.”

 

Derek’s eyes narrowed but the dark cloud hanging over then faded considerably. “I’m not a dog.”

 

“I know that now. So, are we cool?”

 

“I guess,” Derek shrugged and shoved his large, square hands in his pocket. Stiles tore his gaze away from them in time to see Derek’s minute smirk. “How did I measure up?” he tilted his jaw at Scott who had passed out on the window, a line of slobber already on the glass.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes before answering. “Well, not monstrous.”

 

A smile tugged at his mouth as he got into the jeep and left Derek standing on the side of the road, glowering at Scott who had started to snore softly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
